


Vanilla Lattes and A Not Quite Starving Artist

by Righ



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Slow Burn, and a little making out, just fluff here, mature content to come in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Righ/pseuds/Righ
Summary: Keith makes coffee. Then he wants to make out with Shiro, it's all very simple.





	Vanilla Lattes and A Not Quite Starving Artist

**Author's Note:**

> hey how about a coffeeshop au fic written by an actual seasoned barista?? incredible. 
> 
> scream in the comments if ya'll baristafam feel me :)

It was loud, crowded, and Keith had already served more rude people since eight o'clock than he had all week. It was Saturday, of course. "The day the assholes come out to play!" as Lance always put it, a topic on which they both firmly agreed.

There since seven, harassed with too much left over from the previous night's closing team and too much to do in his own right as he opened, the queue had been lining up even before he opened the shop, and (to his quiet fury) everyone had strode right up to the counter ahead of him finishing putting the heavy wooden gates away. No one offered to help, they never did, and Keith wore a carefully neutral disinterest in them as they rapped their cards waiting for him to step behind the counter. Even then it went slow; the new baker James was irritated at having to help serve until the next employee arrived (bless Pidge and her perky smile) and Keith was rung out by midday by the time everyone was logged on the till. Lance took over as barista with all the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't woken up at five o'clock to get to work.

Keith took his break in the back corner, glowering over his meal of an energy bar and hastily made hot chocolate. It was the topping on an already shitty shift when a shadow fell over him and someone asked, 

"Excuse me, can I have this table?"

Wondering if he could simply afford to lose his job and tell the stranger to fuck off, he looked up at a handsome man with oddly colored hair and shoulders for miles, yet not even the sight of a pleasant smile on that many stacked muscles could assuage his bad mood. Who asked a worker to give up their table on their break?

The man shuffled, awkwardly showing Keith the dead phone attached to the charger in his bag.

"I'm really sorry, I forgot to charge it last night and there's a socket by your table —"

"It's fine. I'm done anyway."

Keith noted the grateful surprise as he gathered up his drink and swept past the stranger on a b-line for the staff door, letting it slam on his heels. Downstairs in the cloakroom, he sipped his cooling drink and simmered in a foul mood, counting down the minutes until he was due to finish his shift. When he strode back onto the shop floor fifteen minutes later he caught a glimpse of white-tufted hair still in the booth on his peripheral vision and doggedly stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge the eyes burning in the back of his shirt. 

Just to be spiteful, he turned off the shop WiFi.

 

*

 

Three days later it was midweek and Keith was feeling fine. Hunk had been the scheduled baker and, per tradition, they had played music on Keith's phone as they went about their respective jobs. Relaxed and cheerful, Keith managed to greet everyone with a mild smile and even made small-talk with some of the more familiar regulars, laughing with Kolivan who told him new tales of how his farm was doing. The older man was a friend of the family and made a point of visiting once a week to check in on Keith for Krolia's sake, having known her since before Keith's birth. The warmth of his company left Keith buoyant as he waved him off, facing the next customer five minutes later with the remnants of good humour.

It was White-Tuft Dorito guy, once again smiling sheepishly as he caught Keith's eye on his approach.

"Hi, uh. May I have a vanilla latte to go, please?"

"You may," said Keith lightly, amused whenever someone actually used manners. He arched a brow, leaning on the till, looking the stranger over more thoroughly than he had when incensed last week; taller by a foot, built like a gym rat, and wearing a faded black hoodie. He was also the owner of a jawline that could crack walnuts, so. Keith managed a halfway smile. "Anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you."

Prosthetic fingers offered a card for payment, giving him only a moment's pause before he smoothly finished the transaction and moved over to the coffee machine to make the guy's drink. He felt eyes on him as he did, glancing up. The guy had a scar across his nose that stood out when he blushed, something he hadn't noticed before. 

_Cute._

"I'd like to apologise," White-Tuft Dorito guy haltingly started, making Keith look up as he handed over the drink, "for the other day? I took your table."

"I remember." Maybe Keith shouldn't have been so abrupt. Fortunately, it didn't seem to put off the other man who huffed a chagrined smile.

"Yeah, I ... I'm sorry. But you really saved my life, I got to check my emails after all."

Keith leaned on the counter, indulging his curiosity while the shop was quiet. He should have been finishing a dozen other jobs, but. Those grey eyes were so wide and sincere. "Important news?"

"Absolutely! I got to contact someone before a deadline ran over —" The stranger hesitated, checking himself, and scratched the back of his head. "Anyway, thanks again."

"No problem." Predictably karmic, a sour old couple started hovering around the food cabinet, their presence demanding Keith's attention under the shop cameras. He made the split-second decision to hold out a coffee-spattered hand. "I'm Keith."

The hand that took his was large and warm, and he felt his insides turn to butterflies when the other man's smile finally lit up his eyes.

"Shiro. Nice to meet you, Keith."

"You too. Um, have a nice day."

 

*

 

"Wait, _what_ does he look like?"

"Black hair with an undercut and white bangs."

Hunk pursed his lips in an attempt not to speak his mind, but Keith read his expression and rolled his eyes. Lance, however, had no such tact.

"Dude, that is a Grade-A hipster, you don't want to get involved. Trust me."

"Last time you said 'trust me' you caused a flood in the kitchen," Keith flatly pointed out.

"I never said I was a plumber!" shrieked Lance. He sighed in the world-weary way he reserved for Keith and swigged his beer. The bar was warm and everyone was a few drinks in, the table consisting of Keith's friends, also known as the people he could actually stand to see outside work. "Keith, when was the last time this guy came in?"

"A week ago? He's not a regular." Keith found himself wishing he was. "His name is Shiro."

"That's a weird name," said Pidge, piping up as she looked away from her phone. "Are you sure it's real?"

"I can't imagine why he'd lie," said Keith.

Lance wolf-whistled. "To impress his favorite barista, maybe? 'Shiro!' It sounds way cooler than his actual name, I'll bet."

"Like Madonna!"

Lance fist-bumped Hunk. "Yes! Keith is crushing on Madonna Guy, that's his name forever now."

"I've met him twice. The first time I was horrible, I'm surprised he doesn't hate me."

"You should write your number on the lid of his drink the next time he comes in!" said Hunk, gasping. "Can you _imagine_? You'd be a movie trope!"

"Hunk, nobody really does that."

"Exactly! You could be the first," Hunk wheedled.

Pidge hooted, turning her phone around with a triumphant smirk. There, on Instagram, was Keith's vanilla latte on legs.

"Takashi Shirogane," he read aloud, eyes widening. 

"Yo, _what!_ That is some _prime beef_ right there!"

"Lance, get out of the way, I need to see Keith's coffee callboy! Oh. Oh, wow."

Lance and Hunk nosedived the picture before fishing out their phones. Pidge handed hers over to Keith who took it with an astonished blink, scrolling through photo after photo of Shiro; gym selfies (hot), various shots of fussing a huge black cat ("Blackie", adorably), regular selfies (even hotter in thick sweaters somehow), and ...

"Oh, man. Keith, sorry," said Hunk, who had undoubtedly just found the pictures of Shiro and a blonde tagged as a boyfriend. 

_'Took Adam to the zoo! **#anniversaryfun** '_

Keith handed Pidge her phone back, slouching heavily as he drained his drink. "It doesn't matter, he probably won't come in again."

"That's so shitty of him!" said Lance, scowling indignantly as he pored over his phone. "How dare he flirt when he's attached! We may admittedly be super hot examples of the human species that can make a killer cappuccino but we are _not_ slabs of meat to be toyed with! What a jerk."

It was typical, Keith told himself, trying not to be too disappointed. Just his luck.

"Sorry, Keith," offered Hunk, who tactfully started steering the conversation elsewhere but who was interrupted by Pidge almost leaping out of her chair minutes later.

"Holy shit, he knows Matt! Keith, look!"

Keith felt like a yo-yo inside, his interest suddenly riled back up by the photos thrust under his nose of Shiro hanging out with Matt Holt as well as the blonde, Adam. 

"Do you know what this means?" hissed Pidge, eyes wide behind her glasses. "I can get Matt to bring him in again!"

"Pidge, he has a boyfriend," Keith protested, but it felt weak. Faced with the prospect of seeing Shiro again, he knew what his answer would be.

Ten minutes later it was announced Matt would be bringing his friend into the shop the following day, but he expected free cookies for being bullied by his little sister.

Keith resolved to give him a whole meal.

 

*

 

Never before had Keith felt so self-conscious while making coffee. Twice he burned his fingers on the steam-wand before Lance took over and told him loftily that it was too dead in the shop and he might as well take off early, knowing exactly where Keith wanted to be: four tables down in the booth with the plug-socket (of course, just how shitty _was_ Shiro's phone) where Matt had been enjoying a free meal with his ridiculously handsome friend for the past half-hour. 

Lance levelled Keith with a solemn look and simply said, " _Go_. Be free, Padawan."

Keith raced to get changed downstairs before hurrying back up, approaching the table with his heart in his throat to see them both getting up. Shiro's immediate smile felt like the sun's rays had somehow permeated the pokey little coffee shop, a living breath of fresh air. 

"Keith, hey!" Matt grinned, a little too much of Pidge's know-allness in his smile.

"Hi," said Shiro. "Thanks for the coffee, it was great."

"Tasted even better since it was free," said Matt, stoutly ignored as Shiro's attention remained locked on Keith.

"No problem."

"We were just heading out to the park to do some sketching," Shiro offered, taking a step around the table to be closer to Keith, who hoped he wasn't going to faint from the sudden proximity; Shiro seemed much taller without a counter between them. He smelled like vanilla and chocolate cookies from lunch. "I need to get some work done for my portfolio. Would you like to join us?"

Matt interjected before Keith could answer. "Actually! I have a prior engagement. Totally forgot, can't be avoided."

Shiro's eyes widened but Matt looked as serene as any smug Holt that Keith had ever seen and continued walking backwards.

"Matt!"

"Sorry, guys! Hey, you two have fun, don't draw too many exciting ducks!"

Keith swallowed in the ensuing silence, glancing at Shiro. He looked back, hitching up a nervous smile.

"I think we just got set up," said Shiro, as if it could be an apology.

Without hesitation, Keith declared, "No, no! I love ... ducks."

Shiro laughed and it was the most beautiful sound to ever grace the interior of Keith's workplace, holding out a hand. "Shall we? Maybe I'll find something more interesting to draw than the birds, this time."

 _Oh, shit. An actual date._ Keith still had coffee stains on his knuckles.

"... Sure, let's go."

Shiro's hand was as warm as he remembered. He could ask about Adam later.

 

*

 

Shiro laughed with his whole body, Keith quickly learned, the older man hugging himself as he flopped backwards on the grass where they sat near the park's pool. Dappled sunlight drifted over him through the leaves of the trees and Keith's dopey smile widened into a grin, Shiro's good mood infectious. He was genuinely beautiful in the way regular people weren't, so watching him was practically a delight.

"They're _not_ the same!"

"All these pens do the exact same job," said Keith flatly, enjoying teasing Shiro who snorted indignantly. "I don't see why you need so many when the thin ones look identical! 0.1? 0.2? This is really pretentious."

Shiro caught the pen that Keith flicked at him, his pencil case commandeered in Keith's lap so he could pass Shiro the right piece of stationary now and then, yet an afternoon of sketching had quickly devolved into Keith trying not to be nervously critical of Shiro's expensive art supplies and failing.

Fortunately, Shiro appeared to find that endearing.

"Alright, why don't you use whatever you want to draw me?"

"Shiro, no! This is your sketchbook and I seriously can't draw —"

"Come on," said Shiro kindly, scooting closer so he could lean into Keith's side and flip to a clean page, offering him the pen back. His eyes softened when they caught Keith's, so close that Keith could feel his bodyheat on his arm. "Give it a go. You'll do just fine."

Keith proved him wrong with a terrible drawing of a fat-headed Shiro with both hands on his stocky hips, floating somewhere in the middle of the page, legs akimbo. It was horrendous.

"Wow, you ... weren't kidding."

"I _told_ you!"

Shiro's laugh filled their little corner of the park and he wrapped his prosthetic arm around Keith as he slid even closer, using his left hand to doodle planets and stars around his tiny self. He circled the head in a helmet and noted "space ranger shiro, by keith" next to it, and by the time he met Keith's gaze there was nothing in Keith's stomach but a black hole into which he was freefalling, off-balance with the sheer force of his crush.

"See," said Shiro, quieter. "Now it's a work of art."

"Shiro ... "

"Keith?"

They might kissed then, everything was perfectly set up. Keith ruined it as he asked, "Who's Adam?"

Shiro blinked, surprised. He cleared his throat as he sat up a little. "Did Matt or Pidge mention him?"

"We stalked you on Instagram," Keith admitted, relieved when Shiro smirked instead of getting angry. He nudged his side, leaning back into Shiro's warmth. "There were a lot of pictures of you with that guy, I just wondered ... "

"You wondered if I was cheating on my boyfriend with a hot guy my best friend set me up with."

"No! ... Kind of."

Shiro shook his head, laying down the pen to take Keith's hand in his own, his thumb warm and calloused from hours spent sketching, rubbing over Keith's knuckles. Keith was hesitant to let him until Shiro admitted, "Adam died."

And then Keith felt so sorry for him that he reached up to cup Shiro's cheek, steamrolling any boundaries they should have had up on a first date.

"Takashi, I — I'm _so_ sorry. I shouldn't have asked —"

"You didn't know. It's okay, Keith, I ... I want you to know these things about me."

Shiro kissed the inside of Keith's palm (which Keith inwardly swore never to wash again) and took his other hand to hold in their laps, leaning in so their foreheads touched. It was frighteningly easy to be so open around Shiro, every molecule of Keith screamed to drag him closer and pull him down and maybe crawl all over him —

"He was a pilot, his ship crashed two years ago. It's stupid, I guess I like uploading his old photos because it's my way of remembering he was real," said Shiro, downcast and chagrined, clearly anxious of Keith's sharp wit. He squeezed Keith's fingers back when he felt pressure around his. "He was my best friend too, before I met Matt. Seeing his face makes me feel like he isn't really gone."

Keith acted on impulse and pecked Shiro on the cheek, blushing but earnest. "I don't think it's stupid _at all_ , Shiro."

"That's because you're gorgeous _and_ a good person," said Shiro lightly, buoying the mood. "Unless someone interrupts you on your break."

"Oh my god, I was having a bad day!"

One he would never live down, evidently.

Shiro laughed and the somber tone broke. He avoided most of Keith's swats. "You looked so angry, I thought you were going to throw your drink at me!"

"You're lucky you're pretty, that's all."

" _Oh_?" It was such a mistake. Shiro arched a brow and snaked an arm around Keith again (its new favourite spot, he noted) and playfully pushed him down on the grass. Keith had to actively remind himself not to get a boner in public, hands flying to the chest of Shiro's hoodie. "You think so, Keith?"

Shiro carefully moved the pencilcase from Keith's lap to the grass. It was inexplicably erotic, as casual gestures went.

"Uh ... "

"Hey. I'm going to kiss you now. Okay?"

"Definitely. Definitely very — _mmph_ ... !"

Framed in the golden sunlight with grey eyes that promised a storm of emotions based exclusively around Keith, Shiro managed to cover him completely with his bulk without being sleazy about it. Keith's brain pared down his senses so he could only focus on _big_ and _warm_ , meeting Shiro's lips with a full-bodied roll that he couldn't contain, desperate to feel every inch of him. He shivered and held onto that ratty black hoodie for as long as it took for Shiro's hot tongue to wreck his ability to form anything other than moans, meeting each new angle of the kiss on the barest breaths, hips bucking. Shiro's weight pinned them down without trying and if that wasn't the hottest thing ever, well.

Half-hard when they parted, happy sighs punched out of his chest as Shiro dusted chaste kisses down his jaw. 

"Shiro ..."

"Do you want to go on a bunch of other pointless dates and pretend you didn't just become my boyfriend starting from right now?"

Keith laughed and cupped a cheek, deeply satisfied to see him so flushed in return. The day felt like a whirlwind; he had a boyfriend now, a beautiful man he couldn't deny feeling strongly for, no matter that they barely knew each other. Shiro's hand on Keith's waist was protective, the way he met his eyes spoke volumes about how he too felt so sure about them, apprehension aside. They could get to know one another better in time, all that mattered was they _did_ stay together.

Keith had never been so certain of anything in his life.

"I don't even really know you," he said, making Shiro frown, "so those dates had better be informative."

He yelped as Shiro sagged with exaggerated relief, pinned to the ground in a playfight that erupted moments later when he told Shiro to get back to work drawing astronauts with his crayons.

"Keith, I'm actually going to throw _you_ into a black hole."

"Only if we get lost in space together."

Shiro gave into a smile, blushing. For once, everything in Keith's life was perfect.


End file.
